Broken Inside
by xJanzx
Summary: This is the sequel to 'Fix You' and describes how Ronnie is coping with the loss of her daughter with Jack by her side.
1. Chapter 1

**Broken Inside**

Ronnie lay in bed, her blue eyes wide open and blankly looking into the darkness that enveloped her. She closed her eyes for a fraction of a second before snapping them open once again. This was how she had spent every night since her little girl had been killed; closing her eyes for the smallest amount of time before frantically opening them so that she didn't have to see the look of shock on her baby's face as a car ploughed into her petite body.

Every night she would haunted by those few seconds, her mind reliving it in slow motion, her body paralysed by the same shock and terror that had gripped her almost five months ago. _It's meant to get better._ Ronnie thought to herself, her eyes still searching through the darkness, looking for answers that it could never give. _That's what they say, isn't it? 'Time helps, it heals you'. What a load of crap – it's been five months and it may as well have been five minutes ago. Time doesn't help, it doesn't heal, it does nothing._

Inwardly, she let out a deep sigh, unconsciously hoping that with each breath she exhaled, the gut wrenching pain would lessen. Pulling back the covers, Ronnie slipped out of the king sized bed and made her way over to the window – she couldn't stand just lying there for any longer, so she did what had become routine for her, she lifted back the curtain and looked out into the darkened Square.

The streets were silent and so incredibly still, not even a gentle Autumn breeze rippled through the air. It was just quiet. But to Ronnie, the silence was deafening. Sometimes, she craved the silence, even sought it out, but other times she ran away from it; it was as though she needed the noise to drown out her own thoughts. Tonight . . . tonight, she just wanted to be. She wanted to be . . . but not to feel.

Ronnie pressed her fingertips against the glass pane of the window, the coolness slithering through her hand and soothing her burning body. She leaned forward, the side of her forehead now touching the glass. The orange glow of the streetlights dimly lit Albert Square, and the moon hung low in the midnight blue sky. It was almost picturesque. Almost.

If it hadn't been for the road where her daughter's body was flung into the air before landing with a thud on the concrete ground.

She gasped as she remembered the sound; the sound of flesh colliding with the road. But that wasn't even the worst of it. That sound was nothing compared to the one that would rip at Ronnie's skin every moment of every day. That wasn't the sound that rung in her ears every time silence descended upon her mind. No, the sound of her daughter's last breath, the rattling wheeze as she called her 'mum' for the first time was the sound that stopped Ronnie's heart from beating and made her want to fall through the glass and into the darkness that had swallowed her little girl. That sound was the one that haunted her every minute that she was awake and every minute she tried to sleep.

She would hear it everywhere, that one word spoken with a final breath – in the shouts of children playing, on the television, in the voices of the market stall holders as she walked past them. Everywhere she went, everywhere she ran to, she would hear her daughter's voice.

Ronnie felt the pain building in her once again, building so much she felt as though she would drown in it. _It comes in waves._ That's what Dot had said as she had tried to comfort the grieving mother. "But that's a lie," she whispered to herself; her warm breath making a small part of the window mist over. "It's not waves, it's always. It's just . . . always."

Feeling a slight draught, Ronnie turned around to find out it's cause. Her face instantly flooded with love as she looked upon the person that sat at the foot of her bed. "You came back," she said, the smile lighting up her entire being.

The young girl nodded, an identical smile adorning her own face. "I said I would, didn't I?" She said, her lips still set in a smile. "You never do believe me when I say that, do you mum?"


	2. Chapter 2

Ronnie shrugged at Danielle's comment, her full lips twisting upwards into a small smile. "Can't help it, it must be my suspicious nature." Danielle laughed, the corners of her blue eyes crinkling slightly as she did so. Unconsciously, Ronnie stopped herself from blinking; she wanted to savour this moment, to remember every second of it, every breath of it. She wanted to remember everything and she wouldn't be able to do that if she blinked.

"You're staring again," Danielle stated, getting up from where she sat on her mother's bed and walking over to the bedroom window.

Ronnie looked away. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Can't help it," the young girl finished. "I get it. . . I do . . . more than you know." Peering through the window, she looked out into the darkness, feeling her mother's eyes follow her every movement. "He's out there again."

Inwardly, Ronnie sighed. She didn't need to look into the Square to know who Danielle was talking about. "I know."

"You have to talk to him, y'know? Sooner or later."

"I know."

Sitting down next to her, Danielle held a hand over the mother's she never got to know. To that moment, she could picture her adoptive mother's hand, could tell you how it felt against hers and the way it made her feel safe. She didn't have that with this woman, this mother. The mother that was ripped from her waiting arms just as she was ripped from Ronnie's. "Please stop doing this to yourself," Danielle whispered.

"Doing what?" Ronnie asked, her eyes transfixed on the physical contact between her and her daughter. She could feel her skin, she could feel the warmth radiating from Danielle's body. She could _feel_ that . . . but what did it mean? How could this be happening? She knew her daughter was dead, she knew that, but . . . she was right _there_. Ronnie was talking to her and she could feel her, so . . . what could this mean? Those were the questions that constantly ran through Ronnie's mind, but in the last five months they weren't so loud, she could hear the echoes of their voices, but with each time she would see her daughter, the echoes would become weaker, they would fade a little bit more. And now, after five months, she could barely hear them.

"You know what."

Ronnie shook her head, her eyes not leaving Danielle's face. "I miss you."

"You need to stop this, mum."

"Stop what?"

"Look at him," Danielle urged, her fingers clutching her mother's cheeks and forcing her to turn her head to look at the desolate man that sat on Arthur's Bench, looking into the sky, a silent prayer on his lips. "He loves you. He _loves_ you and this, this darkness – there's no answers here, there's no solace-"

"_You're_ here." Crystal droplets formed in Ronnie's eyes, brimming at her eyelids and threatening to trickled down her porcelain cheeks.

"But the man you love, the one whose baby you're having – he's not. He's out there."


	3. Chapter 3

Ronnie continued to look out of her bedroom window, her eyes fixed on the man that held her heart in his hands, the only man that she had ever loved. "He doesn't understand," she whispered, looking down at her interlaced fingers. "Y'know, I used to do this all the time?"

"What?" Danielle asked, tilting her head slightly as she watched her mum.

"Hold my hands like this. All through the time I was pregnant with you and the birth, I held my hands like this."

"Why?"

"Because there was nobody to hold my hand, so I held it myself." Ronnie watched her daughter's face change from intrigue to utter heartbreak. "It's okay," she told her, shaking her head slightly, trying to stem the flow of tears that would no doubt trickle down her cheeks. She turned her head away, returning her gaze to the darkened Square. She watched as Stacey Slater stumbled towards her front door, her blonde locks matted with grease and sweat.

"She's drunk again," Danielle stated. Ronnie nodded. "Why isn't anybody looking after her?"

"Jean's trying, all of her family are, but she's so . . ." Ronnie stopped, suddenly remembering the last conversation she had had with Stacey. It was just a few days ago, she'd been passing through the market on her way to the club and they had exchanged two words: 'hi' and 'hello'. That was all. Those two words. But Ronnie had looked into her face and she had seen this haunted girl, as though this twenty year old was crumbling under the weight of everything life had thrown at her.

"What?"

" . . . Lost. She looked lost."

Placing a delicate hand across Ronnie's, Danielle spoke. "You should talk to her."

Ronnie nodded, her eyes transfixed on the physical contact between the two of them. It would always surprise her, the realness of it. "I should, but I . . . " She paused, sucking in a sharp breath. "She reminds me too much of you."

Danielle's warm laughter rang out through the bedroom, bouncing off the walls and making Ronnie's lips lift into a smile of her own. "You're kidding me, right? Stacey Slater? I'm like the complete opposite of her. She's all confident and brave and says whatever she feels like. She's like a cat with nine lives, can talk her way out of any situation and will _always_ land on her feet."

Ronnie lifted her right arm, her fingers tucking a strand of Danielle's hair behind her ear. "You're pretty brave yourself – you left home for a place that was completely new and you found a job, a home and a family. It takes a pretty brave person to do that."

Danielle shrugged her slender shoulders, her blue eyes no longer dancing with laughter. "Maybe. Maybe if I was braver, I would have told you sooner. I guess, I guess nobody can be brave all the time – just look at Stace, she's not brave anymore." She pointed her head in the direction of her former best friend, the one who was struggling to get her key in the door.

"She's sick, sweetheart," Ronnie told her, gently running her fingers over her daughter's soft hair.

"So are you."


	4. Chapter 4

Ronnie felt the cold September air bite at her skin as she crossed the Square, leaving behind the warmth of her flat and making her way to the man that she loved. Jack heard footsteps and looked in the direction that they were coming from, his eyes filling with love and heartache in equal measure. "You shouldn't be out in the cold," he said, almost instantly.

Ronnie shrugged her shoulders inside her thick black jacket. "You shouldn't either."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither," she murmured, sitting down next to him on Arthur's Bench and laying her head down on his shoulder. She felt his hand encase hers and hold onto it tightly. Ronnie closed her eyes, savouring the moment and committing it to memory.

"I remember when I gave you these," Jack whispered, lovingly fingering the diamond engagement ring and platinum wedding band Ronnie proudly wore on her left hand. "You took my breath away, you know that? You just floated in, seven months pregnant in that white dress, and all I could was watch you. If it hadn't been for Penny telling me to close my mouth and Max elbowing me in the ribs, I coulda just looked at you all day." He reached up with his free hand and gently caressed her pale cheek. "I still could now."

Ronnie swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat and with it she tried to swallow some of the heart wrenching pain. "Nobody's telling you not to." She smiled up at him, smiled even as the tears formed in the corners of her eyes and spilled down across her face.

Shifting his body slightly, Jack moved so that he was sitting directly opposite her as opposed to just next to her. He brought his hands up to her face, placing a palm on each of her cheeks and then moved forward until his lips were dancing with hers in the sweetest of kisses. It should have been tender, romantic even, but those weren't the emotions that were running through their bodies. There was no room for any emotions apart from terror, because both of them were thinking: "Will this be our last? Is this kiss going to be our last?"

"I'm scared, Ron," Jack whispered, his breath coming out in small wisps of smoke. He looked into her blue eyes, a reflection of the turmoil that was ripping through him like a tornado.

"So am I."

"I can't, Ron, I can't, I _can't_ do this without you."

"Yes you can," she told him quickly, adamantly. "You can, Jack – you have to."

But he shook his head, looking up into the sky with tear filled eyes for a fraction of a second before looking back down to his wife. "It wasn't meant to happen this way, this wasn't meant to be the way our daughter was born. We were meant to be bringing her home, together – you holding her in your arms, impatiently tapping your foot while I tried to put the car seat in. But that's, that's not gonna happen, is it?"

Ronnie looked to her husband, this broken man – and she had been the one to break him. She hadn't done it intentionally, even though she had tried to hurt him a hundred times after they'd first broken up, she hadn't done this on purpose. It wasn't fair on him, she should have just left, like she had planned. She should have just left and let him get on with his life, without all this pain, this pain that felt like it was ripping them in half, a pain that would never end.

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, the tumour's too big."


	5. Chapter 5

Jack sat on the sofa, Ronnie's head in his lap as she lay sleeping. He gently ran his fingers through her blonde hair, a web of golden silk, and just looked at her. Before whenever he used to do this, it would make his heart burst with pride, but now . . . now it was as though a knife was slicing through the vital organ with every glance.

Because there was always an urgency in his heart, in his actions, he needed to do it one more time, one _last_ time. Because neither of them knew when that last time would happen.

"How can this be happening?"

_We were happy, so, so happy. And then a couple of weeks later . . . _

Jack closed his eyes, but it was too late. The memory of that day had already begun to play in his mind. Torturing him once again.

_Jack ran to Ronnie's side, catching her before she could completely fall. He shook her, gently to begin with, but more vigorously when she didn't respond. "Ronnie? Ronnie! Come on, darling, open your eyes. Come on! Ronnie! Ron!"_

Jack rubbed at his eyes, trying to dispel the images in his head with his fingers. But he couldn't. No matter what he did, they always remained. A constant reminder of the inevitable.

_A young doctor in a long white coat looked at them solemnly. "I'm sorry, Miss Mitchell."_

"_Why? Everything's fine, isn't it? Fainting and headaches, they're all part of a normal pregnancy. Why are you apologising? Jack, Jack – why is he apologising?" Ronnie's voice was shrill, anxious. _

"_Your pregnancy's normal, everything's fine with the baby-"_

_Ronnie let out a small laugh, the relief filtering out of her via laughter. "So why are you 'sorry'?" She asked, a frown appearing on her face. Jack just held tightly onto her hand, waiting for the blow, the moment when their entire world would be blown apart and they would be left clinging to broken shards in an attempt to survive._

"_We've found a mass on your parietal lobe, in the brain."_

_And there it was. _

_There was the sledgehammer that had smashed through their lives, ripping everything apart without a moment's hesitation. _

"_Wh-what, what does that mean?" Jack stammered, needing everything to be explained because his heart refused to accept what his mind already knew._

"_Veronica has a brain tumour. A substantially large tumour."_

"_But you can, you can get it out, right? With surgery?" Jack asked, holding ever more tightly onto Ronnie's hand. It was as though he needed to feel her fingers in his, needed to know that she was still there because at that moment in time it felt as though the woman he loved, the woman who was having his baby was slipping further away._

_The doctor nodded. "Yes, we can. But . . . "_

"_But what? We'll do that, we'll do the surgery and get out the tumour, yeah?"_

"_If we do the surgery, there's a good chance the baby may not survive."_


	6. Chapter 6

_Jack sat alone in the bar of the club, an empty whisky glass in his hands and a half empty whisky bottle beside it. He just stared at the two objects, seeing right through them. They could've been anything, it didn't matter, he wouldn't have seen them anyway. Because all he could think about was what had happened in the last hour._

_He and Ronnie had gotten home from the hospital, their beings drained. She had walked through the house and upstairs to the nursery. Jack had followed her, his hand clutching hers as he tried to tug her away from the yellow room. But she refused to leave it; her eyes passing over the wooden rocking chair and the changing table and the tiny little outfits that she and Jack had chosen together before putting away in the baby's drawers. _

_Ronnie walked over to the changing table, picking up a pink bodysuit with the words 'My mummy's prettier than yours' written across the chest in red ink. The tips of her fingers ran across the lettering, the word 'mummy'._

"_We haven't even picked out names yet. I was thinking Sarah or Lilly but with two 'l's', not one. Or what about Jamie – after your dad? And what about middle names? I want 'Danielle'. Are there any you like?"_

_Jack wrapped her in his arms, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck and he hugged her from behind. Everything was happening so fast and everybody was moving to keep up with the speed, but he couldn't. All he could do was watch as everything and everybody moved faster and faster until they were just blurs._

"_Don't, Ron, don't do this . . . we're, we're just gonna take a couple of days and process this and think about what we're going to do."_

_He felt Ronnie's body tense in his arms. She turned around to face him, her blue eyes scrutinising every detail of his face. "What we're going to do?" She repeated his words, but there was a tinge of fury lacing hers._

"_Ronnie, if you have this baby, you could die." Jack's words were hushed, whispered even, crippled by the pain of their meanings. Ronnie shook her head. "Yes, Ron, the doctor didn't say that it may happen, he said it __**would**__ happen! So, we're gonna take a day and then we'll go back to the hospital to end the pregnancy."_

_Ronnie pushed Jack away from her – how dare he say those things? How dare he decide whether their daughter lives or dies? He didn't get to decide that. "No! I'm not doing that. I'm having this baby, Jack."_

_Jack took several steps backwards, trying to create as much distance as possible within two seconds between them. His fingers curled into a fist and he pounded it into a nearby wall. Ronnie stared at him, daggers shooting from her eyes. "Stop it!" She demanded. "Stop it! I'm having our daughter."_

"_If you have this baby, you'll. . . " Jack could feel the tears choking him as they welled in his eyes. He couldn't even bring himself to say the words. _

"_It doesn't matter."_

"_How can you say that?! It matters, Ron – it matters. Ron, I can't, I can't lose you. And you need this surgery, you need it and you can't have it if you continue the pregnancy. And if you being alive means we have to end it, we'll end it."_

_Ronnie looked at him, tears glistening in her eyes, she stepped forward and held out her hand. Jack took it and Ronnie brought it to her swollen stomach. "It's not an 'it', Jack. She's our daughter and she's going to have my blue eyes and you're dark hair and our suspicious natures – between the pair of us, she won't be trusting anybody in a hurry. But that's good, 'cos hopefully she'll stay away from boys until her twenties – that should make your life easier."_

"_My life?" Jack breathed, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat. "My life is with you, Ronnie. I can't be alive if you're not."_

"_Well . . . you'll have to be, because our daughter – she'll need you so much."_

"_She needs her __**mum**__ – she needs you."_

_Ronnie lifted her hands to Jack's face, the palms cupping his cheeks. "She'll have me and so will you. I'll be here, Jack – every step of the way. But I won't kill our daughter. I'm having this baby."_


	7. Chapter 7

Jack was stirred from his memories by his phone vibrating against the glass coffee table, he blinked rapidly and quickly snatched it up, attempting to prevent the clattering noise. _1 new message._ Tapping the buttons, he went into his inbox.

_Hey, everything okay? I saw you and Ron out in the square. Max._

Jack looked at the message, his eyes lingering on the sender. Who would've thought that they'd be texting each other at four in the morning, asking if the other was okay? A year ago, they hated each other, were constantly at each other's throats, and now? Now his older brother was there for him when he needed a rock. Now he had his brother back.

_Jack stared into the bottom of his empty glass, his brown eyes dull and lifeless, as though everything that had made them light up had been sucked away, drained from his soul until all that remained was an empty shell._

_He heard the squeak of shoes against the club's floor, but didn't look up. What was the point? He knew it wouldn't be her. How could it be? She was spending the night in the hospital, 'observation' they called it. But what exactly were they observing? You couldn't observe the tumour grow bigger, it just did. From last month's scan to this one's, it was bigger. _

"_Jack? What're you doin' down here?" Max asked, surprised to see Jack in the club at three in the morning. Everybody had either moved on to somewhere else or they were tucked up in bed, but not Jack._

"_It's my club," he replied, dully, not even trying to mask his pain with a snappy remark. He just didn't have it in him anymore._

"_Yeah? That wasn't my question . . . Shouldn't you be home with Ronnie?" Max enquired, sitting down on the stool next to his brother._

"_She's not there." His words were slow and resigned, even Max picked up on the fact that something was very wrong._

"_Where is she then? Don't tell me she's done another bunk? You guys were all loved up this morning – what 'appened." He had seen them just a few hours ago, holding hands, laughing, looking into each other's faces as though they were the only two people on earth. He'd seen that, so how could that have changed so quickly? "What've you done?"_

"_She's gone for a scan," Jack whispered, not wanting to say the words. But he knew that he would have to, he had to tell somebody because it was devouring him._

"_An ultrasound? At this time of night? Is the baby okay? Jack? Jack? The baby?" Max's questions were like machine gun fire, too rapid to protect himself against, so he just let the bullets rain down on him and waited for it to be over. Jack couldn't help but inwardly smirk, because that's all he would be doing for however long; waiting for it to be over. Just waiting._

"_Not an ultrasound, an MRI."_

"_What? Why? Why'd, why would she need that, Jack?"_

"_Ronnie has, she has . . ." Jack's words trailed off, he couldn't say it. His heart wouldn't let him. Jack turned in his seat, looking at his older brother. Crystal droplets glistened in his brown eyes, pooling at the corners before trickling down his chiselled face. "A brain tumour. She's dying, Max. My . . . she's dying."_


	8. Chapter 8

Snuggling deeper into Jack's body, Ronnie sighed contentedly. Her breathing was deeper and a small smile graced her lips. Jack knew that she was still in a state of sleep, knew that she hadn't woken up enough to remember what would happen in less than twelve hours. He looked to the clock on the wall. 5:30 am. _It was only four a minute ago. Why does it have to happen now? Most of my life I've spent waiting impatiently for things, wanting time to hurry up so I can get to whatever I need to, but now when I want it to slow down, it seems to speed up. Come on, just slow down. I just want a little more time with her._

Pulling Ronnie closer to him, he gently grazed her forehead with his lips. "You're gonna be okay. Both of you, y'hear me?" He said, his free hand resting on Ronnie's stomach.

Ronnie stirred and blinked a few times, trying to dispel the bleariness from her eyes. "What time is it?" She asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Not yet," Jack whispered, his hand dropping from her swollen stomach to her hand. "Remember when I gave you this?" He asked, the tip of his index fingers tracing the edges of Ronnie's engagement ring.

"How could I forget?" A smile crept onto her lips, lighting up her face as though she was basking in a ray of sunshine.

_Ronnie and Jack walked through the Square, hand in hand, squinting slightly so as not to be blinded by the beaming sun. They passed the Minute Mart, where Denise was flicking through bridal magazines._

"_Couldn't do that myself."_

"_What?" Jack questioned, curiously._

"_Wear one of those big meringues."_

"_The dessert?" He asked, confused._

_Ronnie laughed, sending shivers down Jack's spine. "No, those wedding dresses, you idiot."_

_He stopped in mid step, gently pulling her so that she was standing in front of him. "Jack?" Ronnie asked, bemused by his actions._

"_So you're saying you're not gonna wear a big dress on our wedding day?"_

_Ronnie furrowed a brow, unsure of what he was saying and where the conversation was leading. "Jack, wh-what is this about?"_

"_Nothing, nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "It's just . . . see, I've got this engagement ring burning a hole in my trouser pocket, and I was wondering if you wanted it to be yours." Jack watched as Ronnie's eyes went wide with shock. "I'm asking if you'll be my wife, Ron – what do you say? Marry me." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a black velvet box. Snapping open the lid, he pried the diamond from the confines of the velvet before slipping it onto her left hand._

_Jack looked up, meeting Ronnie's eyes. "You didn't wait for my answer," she told him._

_He shrugged his shoulders, a grin on his face. "Figured you wouldn't be able to say 'no' to this ring."_

_Ronnie shook her head. "No." She paused, watching the way Jack sucked in a sharp breath and held it. "How could I say 'no' to you?"_


	9. Chapter 9

Roxy sat in the kitchen on the Queen Vic, her hands curled around a now cold cup of black coffee, her eyes dead and staring. Every once in a while, they looked to the clock on the wall before they returned to staring into space. Her entire body ached with stiffness, but she wouldn't move. She couldn't.

"Roxy, darling? What're you doin' up?" Peggy asked, wrapping her dressing gown around herself as she entered the kitchen. Her niece didn't even acknowledge her presence, instead her eyes were focused on a spot in the air. "Roxy? Sweetheart?" Peggy sat herself down in a chair, her every limb felt so heavy under the weight of the knowledge that she held in her mind.

"She sat right there," Roxy stated, her hands clutching the mug so tightly her skin began turning white.

"Who?"

"She sat right there and told me." Her voice was a mere whisper and a lone tear rolled down her pale cheek.

"_Oh Ron, I saw the cutest outfit in town yesterday, wait here and I'll go get it!" Roxy exclaimed excitedly, rushing out of the Vic kitchen, darting into her bedroom and rushing back to her sister. "Here, quick, open it!" She said, thrusting a pink gift bag into her sister's hands. Ronnie hesitated, her fingers delicately running across the top edge of the bag. "Well, go on then."_

_Dipping her hands into the bag, Ronnie pulled out a tiny pink summer dress with white embroidered flowers dotted across it. Ronnie held it in her hands, as though mesmerised by the item of clothing. Instantly, her mind filled with images of the little girl that would wear this dress, the little girl that was safely tucked away within her for the next three months._

_With tears in her eyes, Ronnie looked from the dress to her younger sister. "You'll look after her, won't you?"_

"_Course I will, everyone will," Roxy instantly replied. "Me and her cousin Amy and her sister Penny and her Great Aunt Peggy and what's Phil?" She asked, her nose crinkling in confusion._

"_You'll look after her for me, won't you?"_

"_Ron?" The catch in Ronnie's voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Something was wrong, she could tell that much. Something was really wrong. "Ronnie, what's goin' on?"_

_Ronnie just looked at her, her sweet little baby sister. Reaching out a hand, she gently stroked Roxy's peroxide blonde hair. "You need to stop dying your hair so much, it'll fall out if you're not careful. And use a moisturising conditioner that you leave in for a few hours."_

"_Ron? What's-why are you-? What?"_

"_At the house, there's a box. It's er, it's at the back of the wardrobe in the nursery. Jack doesn't know about it, so don't ask him, okay?"_

"_Ron, what's-"_

"_Please, Rox – just listen to me," she pleaded. Roxy nodded her head, even though bewilderment clouded her blue eyes. "In that box, there are pictures and some videos and DVD's of us and me . . . and Danielle. I need you to show her those when she's older, when she asks you . . ." Ronnie stopped, trying to swallow the painful lump that had formed in her throat. "Please, Roxy."_

"_Ron – what is going on?! Why are you talking like you're not gonna be here to show her yourself? Why're you talking like you're-" Ronnie's bottom lip trembled. Roxy let out a soft gasp. She shook her head. "No. No!"_

"_Roxy, I need you to show her them. I need you to tell her how much I love her-"_

"_No! You tell her yourself! You tell your daughter yourself!" Each word was punctuated with anger and disbelief and despair. _

"_I . . . can't."_

Roxy moved her head, her gaze shifting to her tired aunt. "I've had a big sister my entire life – how am I meant to live my life without her?"


	10. Chapter 10

After a further ten minutes of sitting in silence, Roxy abruptly got up from the table, scraping her chair back and practically running from the room. She just couldn't take it anymore, it was as though the silence was pressing in on her mind, pressing and pressing until she was sure something would burst.

With shaking hands, she scrabbled for her phone, flipping it open and calling a familiar number. "Hello?" The voice on the other end answered almost as soon as the call connected. Roxy didn't say a word, not trusting herself to speak. "Roxy, darling?"

"Dad? . . . I'm scared."

_Roxy looked across the kitchen table at her sister, an aghast expression on her face. She scoffed, shaking her head. "What d'you mean you can't? Don't tell me, in three months time you're gonna lose the power of speech, are yer?" The question was meant to come out sarcastic, joking even, but all Roxy could hear was how strangled her voice sounded._

"_Roxy," Ronnie breathed, saying her name so softly a light breeze would blow away the sound._

"_Stop saying my name and tell me what you __**mean**__!" Roxy exclaimed, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hold it together._

"_You know what I mean-"_

"_No! No, I don't. I . .__**don't**__!"_

"_Please, Rox . . ." Ronnie begged her, but in her selfishness, Roxy refused to listen to the pain and desperation in her sister's voice._

"_No!" She stated, even as the tears began to course down her cheeks and a tightness developed across her chest. "You have to say it. I won't believe it unless you say it." _

_Ronnie nodded, understanding what her sister needed. If she didn't say the words out loud, they didn't have to be true. If they were just thoughts, then they weren't real. "Roxy, I have a brain tumour."_

_And then she was in Ronnie's arms, sobbing with wild abandonment into her sister's shoulder. Ronnie wrapped her baby sister in a tender embrace, holding her tightly as she felt an entire lifetime's worth of tears stream out of her. She could hear Roxy talking, but she couldn't understand the incoherent statements through her outpouring of grief. _

"_Please don't leave us, Ron. Please don't leave us," Roxy cried through her tears, bringing her tear stained face up from Ronnie's shoulder and looking at her sister. "Please."_

"_I'll try not to," Ronnie told her, her voice breathy and hoarse as she tried to speak through her gut wrenching agony._

"_No, promise me. Promise me you'll be okay, Ron. Promise me that we'll pick our daughters up from school together and get drunk at their weddings. Promise me."_

_Ronnie just looked at her, not saying a word. She couldn't make those promises. _

"_Promise me!" Roxy demanded, her voice stronger this time, a hint of anger threading through it. But a second later, her face crumpled. "Promise me . . . please?"_

"Dad – I'm really scared."


	11. Chapter 11

Archie twisted his wrist, his tired eyes glancing to the position of the hour and minute hands. 6 o' clock. _Still a little time._ Stepping through his living room, Archie peered out of the window, looking up to see the pale oranges, pinks and blue painting the sky as dawn approached. _A new day, a brand new day._

He scoffed to himself, wishing that it was the night before again. He looked to the house that he knew his daughter and son-in-law occupied, his eyes lingering on the front door; an internal battle raging on in his mind. Sighing, he stepped back from the window, letting the white window net fall from his hand, back to its rightful vertical position.

He pressed the tips of his fingers against his temple, gently massaging the side of his head as he tried to rid it of so many painful memories.

_Archie stared at his youngest daughter, shocked and surprised to find her standing in the middle of his living room; her hair tangled and her face tear stained. He looked at her curiously, trying to gauge what was the matter. "Roxy? Sweetheart, what is it?"_

_But Roxy remained silent, trying not to meet his gaze. She looked around the room, her eyes dancing from one object to the other, but she refused to look into her dad's eyes. _

"_You've not had another run in with Jack, have you?" He asked, concerned._

_Roxy shook her head. "No, but it's a good thing I didn't bother getting the name changed on her birth certificate, ain't it?" She let out a wry laugh, empty and mirthless, the thought of how one tiny mistake could have ruined so many lives._

"_Then what is it, sweetheart?" He walked up to her, laying a comforting hand on her arm._

"_It's Ronnie." Even as she said her sister's name, Roxy's eyes immediately filled with tears. _

"_Is the baby okay?" Her father asked immediately, the panic making his blue eyes turn dark with fear. _

"_Yeah, yeah. The baby's fine," she replied, still not looking into her father's face. She wasn't betraying Ronnie, she wasn't. Ronnie hadn't told her not to tell him and it had been months now, months since she and Ronnie had talked about what was happening to her and Roxy could see her getting worse, she could see that Ronnie would spend longer in her dazes, talking to people that weren't there. She would look for things that were right in front of her and forget things she knew that she remembered. Roxy could see that she was . . . So she needed to tell their dad. And she had to do it because Ronnie would never be able to. _

"_Then what is it?" Archie's forehead creased into a frown, he couldn't work out why Roxy was being so evasive. Normally she was so up front about her thoughts and feelings and unapologetic for that, but now she stood in front of him like a nervous teenager. A __**scared**__ teenager. "Roxy, have you done something? Something you need help to fix?" He pressed, his words coming out slow and sticking to the inside of his mouth._

_Roxy shook her head once again. "No, it's not about me, it's Ronnie."_

"_That's the second time you've said that. So, have you had another falling out? I thought everything was better between the two of your since we found out about Amy-"_

"_Ronnie's sick, dad. . . she's dying."_


	12. Chapter 12

Pressing the tips of his fingers to his lips, Archie felt his hands shake with terror. His daughter was just across the road, in that house opposite him, with her husband. No doubt that the both of them would simply be waiting. Waiting for it to be nine o' clock before they set off. Before . . . .

Before _what_?

_Before the granddaughter I will never know is born. And before . . . something else._

He couldn't even think the words, couldn't hear them echo in his mind. Because then it would be real. And right now, self delusion and denial was the only thing keeping him from completely shutting down.

Archie remembered his conversation with Roxy, less than a week ago, as his daughter's words pummelled a hole into the core of his being. Those two words, three little syllables. _She's dying._ His head dropped into the open palms of his hands and Archie rubbed his face, trying to rub away the memory of that day and the days that followed.

_Archie shook his head, instantly dismissing Roxy's words. "No."_

_But Roxy nodded. "Yes. Ronnie's dying, dad."_

"_No, she isn't. I've just seen her walking across the Square, she's young and pregnant and perfectly healthy!"_

"_She's forgetting people's faces, people she's seen every day for the last however many years – she's forgetting their names-"_

"_Everyone does that. So, she's a little forgetful, that doesn't mean anything." He protested, refusing to believe what his youngest daughter was saying. _

"_And she's seeing the ghost of her dead daughter. She's __**talking**__ to her and holding her hand and __**hugging**__ her! Does __**any**__ of that sound 'perfectly healthy'?" Roxy paused, sucking in a sharp breath, and took a step closer to her father. "Dad, I know you don't want to believe it – I don't either . . . but it's true." More tears seeped from Roxy's eyes, running down her already damp cheeks._

"_This is a mistake. Those incapable doctors have mixed up her records, that's what it is. She's probably just tired, needs a bit of rest because of the pregnancy, and those damn quacks are jumping to conclusions. She's just tired, that's all," he stated, a frantic edge lacing his voice._

_Roxy looked away from him for a moment, trying to muster up the courage to somehow explain to her dad. "Ronnie has a brain tumour that's making her see and hear things that aren't there. She's seeing Danielle, dad-"  
_

"_She's grieving! She wants to believe that she can see her daughter. She's a mother who's lost her child, of course she wants to believe that Danielle's spirit or ghost or whatever is with her. She's grieving!"_

"_She has a brain tumour, Dad and it's too big to operate. On Friday, she's going in for a caesarean-"_

"_But she's not due for another three weeks!"_

"_She's going to have the baby because if they leave her any longer, both of them might. . ." Roxy trailed off, putting a hand to her mouth to stop the words somehow leaking from her lips. She couldn't say them. She wouldn't. "Dad, you have to talk to her. Please dad, talk to her – tell her you made a mistake, that it was your fault, that it was all your fault. Tell her that you're sorry for everything, for all the lies and the pain, tell her you're sorry and that you love her. That you've always loved her. Make peace with her, dad. Please."_


	13. Chapter 13

Jack idly played with Ronnie's slender fingers, his hands roaming from her stomach to her hands. "You make me so happy," he whispered into her mane of blonde hair.

Ronnie looked up at his through her charcoal lashes, her pale lips curving into a broad smile. "Well, I think it's safe to say, Mr Branning, that you've made me happier than I've ever been."

"Yeah?" Jack asked, his voice slightly unsure and doubtful. _Maybe I have in the last five months, but what about before? I've broken your heart twice. Two times too many._

She nodded her head. "Yeah." Her eyes locked onto his chocolate brown ones, she could feel herself being immersed in their warmth. Ronnie brought her hand up to his face, gently caressing his stubbled cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jack replied, almost instantly. But he clamped down on his tongue before the second part of his sentence could tumble from his mouth. _Please don't leave me._

"I should think so too," Ronnie murmured, tilting her face upwards so her lips brushed against her husband's. "Jack?"

"Yeah?" He drew away, so he could keep looking at her.

"You'll always love me, won't you?" A doubt crept into her voice and a vulnerability swept over Ronnie as she lay on the sofa next to Jack and looked into her husband's eyes, pleading with him to never forget her.

"Course I will."

"You won't forget us?"

"I've spent all my life looking for you, Ronnie – I ain't ever letting us go." His fingers tightly clutched onto hers, as though making sure that she was still there, still lying beside him.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't want you to get married again, I want to be Mrs Jack Branning and I want to be the one that you love forever."

Jack cupped Ronnie's face in his hands. He swallowed the tennis ball sized lump in his throat before attempting to speak. "Hey, hey – you're my _wife_, Ronnie. You'll always be that. And there'll never be anyone else. Ever. _You're_ the love of my life, you're her and there's nobody in the world that can take that away from you. Nobody."

Ronnie bit down on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to smother the wave of tears she knew would pour from her eyes at any moment. "That's good to know, because I'd haunt you just to make sure you'd never have sex again."


	14. Chapter 14

Archie's body jolted slightly at the sudden change in his environment. He'd been sitting on the sofa in his living room, staring into the emptiness in front of him. Had he fallen asleep? Is that why he had been startled? Maybe. No. It was just the street lamp emitting a soft orange glow outside of the window. It had turned off.

Gone out.

_It's nearly morning._

Archie shook his head, trying to shake the feeling of unease that had settled within him. "It's not morning just yet." Sighing, he looked to the half open drinks cabinet across the other side of the room, a practically empty decanter visible. _I can't remember the last time I drank that much._ He thought to himself, even as the words rose to his lips.

"Yes, I can."

_Archie flew out of his house, the blood pumping through his veins as he rushed out onto the Square. His balled up fists pounded on Ronnie and Jack's front door. "Ronnie! Ronnie, I need to speak to you! Please, Veronica!"_

"_She's not home," a voice told him. Archie turned around. "She's at the Vic with her husband," Dot explained, a cigarette held between two fingers._

_Archie nodded, the stricken look still haunting his face. He didn't seem to notice as his legs ran towards the epicentre the Square, towards his eldest daughter. The double red doors of the Vic opened with a bang as he crashed through them._

"_Where is she?" He asked breathlessly. "Where's Ronnie? Where's my daughter?" His eyes were wild as he searched for her in the faces of the customers. "Ronnie? Ronnie, darling? V? Please, sweetheart, I just want to talk to you."_

_Archie felt a strong hand grip his shoulder from behind. "You're not goin' anywhere near her," Jack's voice was cold and deadly._

"_She's my daughter-"_

"_She's my __**wife**__!" Jack hissed through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening even more around his father in law's shoulder, the tips digging into his flesh._

"_Please, Jack, I'm begging you – just let me see my daughter!" His voice became a shout, the desperation making it louder and shriller._

"_Why?" Jack asked, his demeanour calm and collected once again. "Why should I when you took her daughter from her?" _

"_I didn't mean-that wasn't meant-I didn't. I just wanted her to be happy again. I just wanted-" His mind was a whirlwind of dizzying thoughts and emotions. He couldn't do this, he couldn't process the pieces of information that was pummelling his mind at that point in time. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry for what I did, to Peggy, to Ronnie, to Danielle. I'm sorry for what I did to the people that loved her. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." His breaths came in short gasps and he felt his chest tighten with the agony of the lives he had ruined. _

_The two men stared into each other's faces, Jack's face still as steely as it was five minutes ago. And then, out of nowhere, he spoke. "Did you love her?"_

"_I didn't know her."_

"_No – Ronnie. Did you love her?"_

"_Of course I do, she's my daughter."_

"_Then __**how**__, how could you do that?!" Jack released his grip on Archie's shoulder, but deftly his fingers curled around the old man's windpipe. "This is because of you. Your daughter is dying because of you. If you hadn't ripped her child from her arms when she was fifteen years old, maybe, just maybe she would've considered an abortion, she would've had the surgery and she would still be alive in six months time. My __**wife**__ is dying because of you!"_


	15. Chapter 15

Jack practically tiptoed from the living room to the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Ronnie. He rubbed at his tired eyes before grabbing a clean mug and pouring himself a strong cup of black coffee. He frowned as he heard talking, placing his mug on the side and edging nearer to the hallway that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"I missed you." He heard Ronnie say.

Jack stood at the doorway, looking to Ronnie's hand to see whether she was holding her mobile. She wasn't.

"Yeah, just a little." She spoke again, as though conversing with somebody that was in the room. But there was nobody else in the room. Ronnie was alone. And with a pang of heartache, Jack knew who she was talking to. Her dead daughter.

Stepping back from the doorway, Jack leant against the cream wall. His legs buckled under the weight of his fear and he slid down, eventually sitting on the laminate floor, his hands covering his face as he tried his best to hold all of his emotions inside himself.

But the terror was overwhelming, tears danced across his cheeks and Jack found himself silently weeping for the wife he was terrified of losing, the woman who he wanted to hold in his arms every time he took a breath, the mother of his child that was dying.

"_Jack?" Ronnie called out to him, an edge of bewilderment in her voice as she looked at the scene that had played out in front of her thirty seconds ago. She was standing behind the bar in the Vic, watching as her husband grabbed her father by the throat. "What are you doing?" Her voice was soft, almost as echo._

_Instantly, Jack let go. He hadn't meant to do something like that in front of her. He hadn't wanted her to see that. Looking around at the aghast and shocked faces of the residents of Walford, Jack knew what he had done. Nobody had known – only those that were the most important to him and Ronnie – and now the whole Square knew. They all knew his wife was dying._

_Sadly, Ronnie shook her head. She stepped out from behind the bar and walked up to her husband, gently laying a soothing hand on his. "You don't have to do this."_

"_It's his fault," Jack whispered, sounding like a child in the playground, trying to defend himself for hitting another child._

"_It's nobody's fault, darling." Somehow, she managed to give him a weak smile. "It's just the way it is."_

"_I don't want to lose you." Jack held onto her hand, gripping it tightly. Jack saw the tears already forming in her eyes, a wave of guilt flooding through his body. He was making her cry. __**Why**__ was he making her cry?! "I'm sorry," he murmured, his hand reaching up and cupping her neck, before bringing her face closer to his. He laid a delicate kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her skin, savouring the contact and committing it to memory once again._

"_Let's go home?" Ronnie asked, looking into the depths of her husband's eyes and wishing she could make his pain disappear. But she couldn't do that anymore – it was too late. Instead, with hands entwined, the two lovers exited the pub, leaving behind the residents of Albert Square and the memory of two soul mates desperately fighting for the chance to love each other._


	16. Chapter 16

Jack rapidly blinked his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that wouldn't cease falling. He couldn't go back into the living room with bloodshot eyes, she couldn't see him crying. She just couldn't. Jack ran the palm of a hand across his tired face, trying to rub away the anguish that he no doubt carried around with him.

_But I can't. I can't do that because of her, because of both of them._

"You gave me shivers," a voice whispered beside him. Jack turned to face Ronnie, who was now sitting next to him, her back leaning against the wall that lined their hallway.

"What?" He asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

"The poker game," Ronnie explained, a small smile playing on her lips. "When you looked at me, you gave me the most perfect shivers."

"Yeah?" Jack murmured, bending his head down so that he had buried his face in Ronnie's golden hair. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her skin. His fingers sought out hers on the laminate floor and he gripped them tightly, closing his eyes and committing another moment to memory.

"That's only happened a few times," his wife said, her voice low and hushed. Ronnie brought her hand to Jack's face, gently caressing the exposed skin of his neck with her fingertips.

"Yeah, when?"

"When you said you loved me, Christmas Day last year and . . ."

"And what?"

"Our wedding."

It was as though they had both stopped breathing, each suspending in the millisecond it had taken for Ronnie to speak those three syllables. Jack felt her fingers curls ever more tightly around his. His head lifted so it was no longer hiding in Ronnie's hair and he looked into her beautiful face. The terror was written all over it.

"That was a perfect day," Jack began to state, but the words seemed empty and hollow . . . meaningless. Because it hadn't been perfect. Far from it. And the only way it could have been perfect was if his bride hadn't just been diagnosed with a life threatening brain tumour. So, yes, his words were meaningless.

"I don't want to leave you," Ronnie whispered, panic lacing her utterance.

Jack shook his head and took Ronnie's face in his cupped hands. "You're not gonna-"

"I don't want to leave you or her. I want to stay here, with you _both_-"

"You will, Ron. You **will**!" By this time, both their faces were soaked with tears drenched in soul crushing agony. Jack urged his wife to believe him, to believe that she would make it through the day. "You're not leaving me, Ronnie," he told her, adamant. "I have spent my whole life looking for you and I'm not letting you go now." Jack shook his head, swallowing the painful lump in his throat, but not breaking eye contact with his wife. "You're not going anywhere, Ron. We're not **done**."


	17. Chapter 17

Max sat in his living room, the curtains drawn; making it dark and solemn, a lone lamp gave off a soft glow and cast shadows across the walls. He flipped open his phone. No new messages. No calls. Jack hadn't got back to him. Not yet.

He dragged the tips of his fingers across his stubbled chin, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. He wished he knew what was going on. How Jack was. How Ronnie and the baby were.

"Max?" Tanya called out to him, her voice soft as she sat down on the sofa next to him. "Oh darlin'," she whispered, upon seeing the look on her husband's face.

"He's my little brother, Tan and he's gonna lose his wife and maybe his baby-"

"No, that's not going to happen!" She tried to assure him, her voice strong and sharp. But the way her eyes welled up with tears told Max all he had to know.

He brought a hand up to her cheek, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray teardrop. "It already is."

_Max, Ronnie and Roxy sat around the table in Ronnie and Jack's dining room. Max cast small glances between the two sisters, trying to figure out what was going on and why it involved him. His eyes scrutinised ever centimetre of Roxy's face, every minute change in expression._

"_She looks guilty." He thought to himself. "Why?"_

_He heard Ronnie suck in a deep breath and Roxy's eyes instantly snapped to her sister's face. "Ron?"_

"_I'm okay, I'm __**fine**__. It's just, it's just . . ." She trailed off, not knowing what she could say to calm her sister's fears. Because there wasn't anything she __**could**__ say. "I know you're both wondering why I asked you to come around. But I need you to do something for me."_

"_What?" Max asked._

"_I want you to be the godparents to this baby." Ronnie's hand went to her ever expanding stomach and the life that grew stronger inside of it every day. _

"_No." Roxy shook her head._

"_Rox-"_

"_NO!" She practically shouted. Max winced in surprised – he'd forgotten how the Mitchell Sisters loved to shout at each other. "You can pick godparents after this baby's born, okay?"_

_Ronnie sighed, a pained expression filling her eyes. "Rox – you know what's going to happen, you know. And you know I need to make sure this little girl is perfectly okay. And I need you to be her godmother and Max, you to be her godfather." She turned to her brother in law, crystal droplets sparkling in her blue eyes. "I need you to take care of my little girl, Max – like you would Lauren and Abi. And Rox, I know she isn't her sister, but I need you to make sure my baby girl and Amy are like sisters, as good as."_

_Max watched the way Roxy clutched hold of her sister's hand, her knuckles turning white from her fierce grip. His eyes were drawn to the connection – no matter what had happened between the two sisters, they always came together again; they always found each other. He looked up. "What's Jack say about this?"_

"_Jack," Ronnie began, but her voice broke as a tidal wave of agony threatened to wash over her. "Jack thinks we're going to get our happily ever after-"_

"_And you will!" Roxy asserted, her grip on Ronnie's hand getting tighter._

_But Ronnie shook her head. "Rox, it's a week from the surgeries and . . . and 'happily ever afters' are for fairytales . . ."_

Max looked into his wife's face, the worry and sorrow evident, a reflection of his own. "It's already happening, Tan. He's already losing her."


	18. Chapter 18

Archie took a large sip of whisky, his thin lips pressing against the rim of the glass tumbler as he did so. His entire body felt as though a train had hit him, he scoffed as a thought occurred to him. _This is how chemotherapy feels. This is how my V will feel, except . . ._ His thoughts stopped.

But his mouth opened and he said it aloud. "Except she might not make it to chemotherapy."

Absent-mindedly, Archie twirled the gold wedding band around his finger. Even though he and Peggy were now divorced, he couldn't bring himself to take off his ring. The one she had given to him on the day that had sealed the fate of, not only his granddaughter, but his daughter too.

_Archie sat in the darkness of Roxy's bedroom, cradling his baby granddaughter, gently rocking her until she lay peacefully in his arms. He heard the creak of the bedroom door and a shaft of light fell across the bed before it disappeared in the darkness as Roxy closed the door once again._

"_Dad?" She gingerly approached her father. Tracy had been quick to fill her in on the details of the exchange between Jack and Archie and Roxy had rushed upstairs. "What're you-? Are you okay?"_

"_She looks so much like her," he stated, his voice soft, almost a whisper. Archie's fingers gently traced the outline of one of Amy's small hands, his lips twisting in a sorrowful smile as the baby clutched his index finger in her tight fist. _

"_Who, dad?" Roxy asked, sitting beside her father and daughter. She leant forward, kissing Amy's forehead. _

"_Ronnie's Amy . . . Danielle." Archie paused, taking a deep breath. "Y'know, when Ronnie was born and the midwife put her in my arms, I thought my heart was going to burst with pride and love; there was just so much of it. So much love for this little baby girl." Roxy nodded in the darkness, knowing exactly what he meant. "And then fifteen short years later, the midwife put __**her**__ baby girl in my arms. She, er . . . she had this tiny diamond shaped birthmark, right by her knee. Just like Veronica does."_

"_Amy has that too," Roxy told him, her voice thick with unshed tears._

"_I was angry and hurt and __**petrified**__ of losing my little girl to this baby. She was just so young, a baby herself; I was doing the right thing. I was doing what I had to do to give her the life she deserved, that __**both**__ of them deserved-"_

"_Dad, stop." Roxy shook her head. She was sick and tired of the excuses, the explanations. The time for those had passed now. "Just stop. It doesn't matter why you did it in the first place. What matters is that you knew she was __**here**__, you knew that and you didn't tell Ronnie. I know you didn't want to lose her all over again, but if you'd just told her who Danielle was, she would've forgiven you eventually. She forgave me for sleeping with Jack and thinking that he was Amy's dad – she forgave that, Ronnie would have forgiven you too. But you didn't tell her about Danielle – you made out that she was a liar and crazy and Ronnie chucked her out of here. Can you imagine what that would've done to the girl? And now she's dead. . . And we both know she wouldn't have been on that road, she would be here with Ronnie and us, she'd be __**here**__ if you'd just admitted you'd lied."_

_Roxy watched the tears course down her father's tired and drawn face. "There's someone else I should've been, someone else that I was, but one day I fell short of them and every day after that, I kept falling short. And now, now my daughter is dying and she doesn't even want to see me. My daughter is dying and I wish it was me."_


	19. Chapter 19

"Mum?" Stacey blinked. She was lying on the sofa, her body so incredibly tired, but her mind was alive with thoughts and images.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Jean answered, sitting straighter in the armchair. She'd thought Stacey might have been sleeping.

"Do you believe in Heaven?" Her voice was frail, presenting a vulnerability that made her mother want to wrap her in her arms and never let her go. She was a child again, seeking reassurance from an adult, needing to know that somehow everything would be okay, that everything would work out. That good people would have good lives and those that were bad, they'd be punished for what they did. She needed to know that.

"Yes," Jean told her, absolutely resolute in her answer. "Yes. That's where your dad is."

"And Danielle?"

"And Danielle too."

"And my . . . " Stacey stopped, unable to finish her question. Because her mum didn't know about the abortion. She couldn't know. Stacey brought a hand up to her scorching forehead, using the back of it to wipe the glistening film of sweat from it.

She could feel her mum moving closer to the sofa, edging nearer and nearer to her until she was kneeling beside her. Jean brushed the damp strands of blonde hair from her daughter's face and gently took hold of her hand, half expecting Stacey to pull away; but she didn't. "Stacey darling, you know it's okay to be angry and upset? You can be."

"Yeah, I know. But I'm not . . ."

"No?" Jean's voice went up an octave. Stacey could tell there was a more than a note of concern in her voice.

"No." She sighed. "I don't know what I feel." Turning slightly so that she was no longer looking into her mum's worried eyes, Stacey instead stared intently at the morning sky. "Danielle's mum has a brain tumour."

Jean nodded her head. "Yes, I know."

"She's pregnant."

"Yes."

"What's going to happen, mum?"

"I don't know, darling. Nobody does. We'll just have to wait and see." Jean soothingly rubbed Stacey's forehead with the side of her thumb, trying to ease her daughter into a peaceful slumber. _Peaceful. That's how I want my little girl._

Stacey shifted her gaze, once again looking into her mum's face. "I can't stop thinking, mum. They won't stop. They won't leave me alone. Why can't I sleep, mum?"

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart. We'll go to the doctor's and he'll get you better, he'll get you to sleep, okay?" Her voice was gentle, like a cool summer breeze rippling through the suffocatingly hot air.

"I just want to sleep."


	20. Chapter 20

"Ronnie," Jack whispered, his voice barely audible, but even at that volume he felt it was too loud, as though it would burst the fragile bubble they had built around themselves.

"Mmm?" Ronnie asked, her body wrapped securely in Jack's embrace.

"We have to go, sweetheart," his voice was mournful, he didn't want to say those words.

"Five more minutes," she replied, curling her body further into his warmth. "Just hold me like this for a bit longer."

Jack nodded, but he felt a dull ache spread from his heart to the rest of his body. _She thinks this is the last time I'll hold her._ Swallowing the painful lump that had formed in his throat, Jack tried to speak. But as soon as he opened his mouth, no words came out. He couldn't do it. He couldn't say the words that would shatter this moment of peace and tranquillity and utter love.

But he knew he had to.

_Five more minutes._ His thoughts echoed Ronnie's words as his hands spread across her swollen stomach. _Please baby girl, don't let your mummy go._

After a few minutes, Ronnie broke the silence that had engulfed them. "We have to go now, don't we?"

Jack nodded, his eyes locked on his wife's, trying to gauge what she was feeling. If he knew, then maybe he could help? But even as he searched Ronnie's blue orbs, he thought it ludicrous that he was even trying – because he knew what she felt; he was feeling it with her. And that's when he realised.

He was memorising her face.

Jack shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought from his mind. "What?" Ronnie asked, reaching out a delicate hand and gently caressing his stubbled cheek.

"Nothing," he told her, a small smile slipping onto his lips.

Ronnie leant forward, her mouth pressed against her husband's for a fleeting moment before she pulled away. "Liar," she breathed, her warm breath dancing across his face. "This is it, isn't it?" She stated, it wasn't a question anymore – she knew the answer already.

"This is it." Jack felt his chest still, the breath catching in his lungs. "The next time we're here, you'll be carrying our little girl in your arms."

Ronnie smiled, her face radiant with light and happiness at the thought of holding her baby girl, of bringing her home and showing her off to everyone in the Square. She imagined the Winter when she would bundle up her daughter in soft snowsuits and blankets and hug her tightly and breathe in her baby smell. Ronnie smiled, but the yearning of her heart eclipsed the light in her eyes.

"Ronnie, promise me," Jack said abruptly, clutching her hand tightly.

"Promise you what?"

"Promise me you'll bring our daughter home. Promise me you'll be the one that carries her into this house, the one that lays her down in her cot."

"Jack," Ronnie began, the sad smile on her lips once again.

"Promise me!" He urged her. "Please, promise me, Ron. Promise me."

Finally, Ronnie nodded, a row of crystal tears lining her lashes. "I promise."


	21. Chapter 21

Jack swirled the brown liquid around in the glass tumbler before bringing it up to his mouth and taking a sip. It burned as the whisky slithered down his throat, warming him as it slipped into his stomach.

_Why do you do this to yourself?_ Max had asked, walking into the living room of his younger brother's house and seeing him sat in the darkness, his eyes glued to the television screen. Ronnie's face smiling back at him.

Jack hadn't replied, instead simply facing his brother for a fraction of a second before hastily returning to gaze upon the screen. There had been no need for words, an explanation. Max knew the only way that his little brother could survive whatever he was going through was if he could see his wife, if he could see her then maybe he could pretend for a moment that she wasn't gone. That she wasn't dead.

Jack's vision blurred as scalding tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. "I miss you, Ron," he whispered, not even bothering to wipe away the tears – what would be the point, they'd only be replaced by more.

He sucked in a shallow breath as the sharp pain of grief once again stabbed at his already tender heart. Jack closed his eyes and instantly an image of his wife washed over the blank canvass. _You left, Ronnie. You said you wouldn't, but you still did. You left me and our little girl._ As soon as the thoughts formed in his mind, a wave of guilt crashed over him. Why was he blaming her?

Jack slowly shook his head. "I'm not, I'm not blaming you darlin', I just . . . want you here with me. Lilly, she er, she did the sweetest thing and I . . ." his words trailed off as the gut wrenching agony set in once again. Their daughter had done the sweetest thing that morning and Jack had turned around and called out for his wife, but . . . she didn't come, she didn't see, she wasn't there.

_You're missing it all, Ron._

The little girl squirmed on the sofa beside her daddy, lifting her still half asleep body from the black leather, and wrapping her arms around her dad's neck. "You okay, sweetie?" Jack asked, hugging her tightly.

Lilly nodded, her messed up blonde hair tickling her dad's face. She pulled back to survey Jack's face, her small hands on the side of Jack's chin, lifting his face so she could see it properly. "Crying, daddy?"

Jack shook his head. "No, daddy's just being silly, sweet pea."

"Sad, daddy?" Her crystal blue eyes looked into Jack's, searching his face. _Just like her mum did._

He smiled, a thousand memories of Ronnie looking at him in the same way, coursing through his heart. "Yes, a little bit."

Lilly turned her head, giggling abruptly as she saw her mum on the T.V. screen. "Mummy!" She squealed, jumping down from the sofa and rushing to the other side of the living room. She raised her right hand and touched the screen, her palm on Ronnie's cheek. She looked over her shoulder. "It's mummy, daddy," she stated, a huge grin on her face.

Jack returned the smile; when his daughter looked at him like that, it was impossible not to. "Yeah, that's right, angel."

Lilly returned her attention to the home movie, frowning as Ronnie's cheek was no longer beneath her palm. The camera had zoomed out to a plush green garden, decorations and balloons were strewn all over the place and the sunshine beamed down, giving the scene a content glow. Her mum was dressed in a white summer dress, talking to her aunt Roxy. A child ran up to the pair and Roxy lifted her daughter up into her arms.

The frown on the three year old's face deepened as she turned to her dad once again. "Daddy – where am I?" She asked, her small mouth forming a pout.

Jack chuckled, getting up from the sofa and kneeling down by his daughter. His fingertips touched the LCD screen, pointing. "You're right there, " he said, softly; his fingers caressing the moving image of Ronnie hugging their daughter close to her chest. Jack stepped into the frame at that point, his arms enveloping his wife and toddler. Ronnie's eyes were shining with happiness as she looked from her baby to her husband, her face radiating life and love. "You're right there," Jack repeated, his hand gently closing around his daughter's frame and pulling her towards him.

Lilly felt a small splash of a tear on her shoulder. She twisted her body to look at Jack. "Sad again, daddy?"

Jack shook his head. "No, sweetheart."

"Crying daddy." She said, matter of factly.

"Mummy made me a promise a long time ago."

"Mummy break her promise?"

A sad smile curved Jack's lips upwards. "No, darling, she didn't break her promise."

**THE END**


End file.
